This Side of the Sunset
by fortunatelyshynerd
Summary: 1955. It's the golden age of cinema and Hollywood is happy to welcome back its prodigal son with open arms and a generous raise, but Neal Cassidy is skeptical. Emma Nolan is trying to escape her parent's shadow and looking forward to working with a half decent actor for once. AU. Includes Swanfire, Rumbelle and Outlaw Queen


**Chapter 1: Enter, pursued by a Robin**

 _Neal- London, 1955_

It's a shame really. Neal loved London, and was sad to leave it. The old place with its cobbled streets, crooked buildings and twisting river spoke to him in a way few things ever had. He infinitely preferred it to New York, with its far too organised street system and an ego crammed into every subway seat. London was a place where people actually lived, and worked and where he had lived and worked since the end of the war.

And why wouldn't he? This was the land of Shakespeare and Marlowe, of Sherlock Holmes and Dickens. He could round any corner and wonder that if he was where Jack London had hailed a cab or Arthur Conan Doyle had lit his pipe. But what Neal loved most was where he worked- The Globe Theatre, the home of theatre itself. He started off as a bit player, Rosencrantz in Hamlet, Ross in Macbeth, working his way up the ranks to play the likes of Don Pedro, Longaville, and even Puck (minus the tights, it had been a modernist production). Last year, he had landed the role of a lifetime as Romeo, alongside longtime friend Wendy Darling. He had gotten rave reviews, and had even performed it for the BBC to broadcast, remembering the thrill of acting to an audience of invisible millions.

But it was time to leave. As much as he loved the stage, Hollywood was looking to welcome back its prodigal son with open arms and an exorbitant paycheck. Neal had had one major role before the war, as a son struggling to forgive his father and he had done well. Really well, in fact. There had been award buzz, but then Pearl Harbour happened, and his number was called, and it felt wrong to care about which camera the director was using and where his blocking was and who would win the Golden Globe and who said what about who.

It wasn't going to be easy, returning as if nothing had ever happened. Because things had happened. He was 14 years older, no longer a bright eyed nineteen year old, he had gained some scars and a lot of experience. At least he had someone as cautious as himself along for the ride.

Robin Loxley snored beside him as they rose above the place they had both called home for so long, and Neal committed the sprawling mass of life and light that they dared call a city to memory. Soon he would be back in Los Angeles, where the air was rich with the scent of orange trees and the skies looked as if they were in a child's picture book. So for one last time he remembered the smell of fresh rain and cigarette smoke, and the misty blue of a summers day in Greenwich Park.

Onwards, he thought. Back to the city of dreams, and dreamers.

 _Emma- Los Angeles, 1955_

Emma Nolan was a morning person. She thought the times between 4 and 6 in the morning were the best times of the day. The light would stream through the chink in her curtains, creating a golden square on her pillow the exact same colour as the primrose robe she would slip on to pad on into the kitchen. There she would open the kitchen blinds and blink as the sunshine spread into her kitchen. As the coffee machine whirred away in the corner, Emma would pour herself a bowl of cereal (milk first, she didn't care who called her a freak) and then sip not-so-delicately at a not-so-small cup of coffee (cream, two sugars, she didn't care who called her a baby).

After setting away her dishes, her day would truly begin. If she wasn't shooting anything, she would laze around the house reading the scripts her agent sent her, putting them into three piles: terrible, not so awful and good. Sadly the first two always towered significantly over the latter. But now, she actually had something to do. Archie Hopper's new film, 'This Side of the Sunset', began filming in a month and she had snagged the role of the female lead: Amelia.

Emma had liked the role because for once she wasn't playing the pretty, blonde girlfriend/wife/secretary/waitress- she was playing an actual character. Amelia wasn't bad, but she sure wasn't good either. Amelia had actual dreams, ambitions, quirks and a character arc that didn't revolve around her love interest. Basically it was like striking the lottery a hundred times over on a blue moon. The love interest wasn't half bad as well. John wasn't a knight in shining armour type that reminded her too much of a cartoon prince charming, or a rugged borderline alcoholic/ scoundrel that reminded her far too much of people she had met in real life. John and Amelia lived in the middle of those sorts of extremes, where real people were.

In order to prepare for the role, she had been working on her southern accent with her best friend Regina, who had a better knack for dialect than she. They would sip cocktails at Regina's apartment, swapping stories about everyone they knew, trying to maintain the accent through the laughter.

Emma drove down to Regina's in her little bright yellow chevy, nicknamed 'Bug' for the time that a wasps nest had taken inhabitance in the front passenger seat while she had been on vacation with her parents and had foolishly left the window open a crack. Before she could even knock on the door, Regina whisked her in and handed her a glass of whiskey. She shoved her down onto an overstuffed sofa and pointed a finger at her. "I have news."

Emma decided against whiskey at 9:45 in the morning, and set it down on a coaster. "Do tell."

"You know how Hopper's been keeping the very super secret identity of your co star a super secret secret... Well I know who he is!" Regina giggled and made a shushing gesture.

Emma snatched Regina's glass out of her hand and put it on the floor. "Who is it?" she said cautiously. Then a terrible thought crossed her mind. "It's not Killian Jones is it? Because if it is I swear I will kill him. Jones that is, not Archie. Maybe Archie."

"It's not Jones."

"Thank God!"

"It's Neal Cassidy." Regina raised her eyebrows at Emma's shocked expression. "He's coming out of early retirement just for Archie. They were buddies before, and he wanted to make a splash for his return."

Well, imagine that. Emma was going to be acting alongside a genuine marvel. Neal Cassidy was a bit of a legend around here. Son of Rowan Gold, quadruple academy award winning screenwriter and Milah Lewis, an up and coming model. They were the golden standard of Hollywood families for a few years until in 1937 Milah ran away to Paris with a billionaire. No one really heard from her and James Hook anymore, just that they had moved to Geneva shortly after the invasion of France. After Milah left, Rowan Gold simply stopped leaving his home. The last time he had been seen in public was a day before Neal left for the western front and the two were fighting on the front lawn. Neal had been in one film before he left for Europe; 'The Dark One' was written by his father. His performance was astonishing, banishing any thoughts of nepotism. Many thought that the next great star had been discovered, only to be destroyed by the horrors of the war. But he was back. Back from doing god knows what. And she was going to get to work with him. Interesting.


End file.
